Shooting for the Moon
by Mrs Percy James Mellark
Summary: Everybody hurts someway. Everybody gets afraid. We all have our own way of dealing with lost. Only sometimes it gets to a point when you ask, why? Whose the one hurting and whose lost? One-shot. Review if you think you know.


**AN: My amazing sister wrote this for an English assignment and I thought I'd share it with the rest of you. First time posting so apologies for anything that's not right. Review me your thoughts or PM me. Enjoy…**

**Shooting for the Moon**

My mum always told me that everybody thinks of fantasy worlds to escape into so that they don't have to face their reality. In one of my fantasy worlds, nothing bad ever happens and nobody ever dies. I get that it might make my world a little over populated but not if it's just myself and the people I care about who live in it. My favourite one is where I get to sit in my favourite spot on top of the hill and just watch the world pass by. But I guess that there's a reason that they're called fantasy worlds. It's because they aren't real. That doesn't mean that they don't exist though. Right now, it feels like I'm living in a world that isn't real or at least I wish wasn't real. Ever since I lost my old dad, I've been all alone even though I'm surrounded by people.

I don't mind being alone, in fact I prefer it. I've never been much of a social butterfly and I feel more comfortable when it's just nature and me. That's why I like it out here, on this grassy hill. I like my little sitting patch that's right on the top so I can see everything in front of me. I like the valley in front of me, the woods behind me and the stars above me. That's why I always come out here at night, so that I can see the stars. This is the one place that I feel like I can actually think in because I feel like I can see the whole world from up here. The house that I live in is at the bottom of the hill but as they say, home is where the heart is. Because my heart feels at home up here, this is my home.

My dad was the first one to bring me here. He told me how he found this place when he was little. He said how when he was my age, he used to get up early every morning so that he could watch the sunrise. He did that because not only was it so peaceful and beautiful, but it made one feel like they were the only person in the entire world. He thought that explorers like Christopher Columbus and Marco Polo would have felt like that the first time that they discovered a new land. My dad would always tell me about how they found these lands and how I can find my own. He would tell me to never stop believing and to follow my dreams, the kind of things that celebrities say as advice. But one thing he said I will always remember. He told me to shoot for the moon because even if you don't get there, you'll fall among the stars.

My dad would tell me all about the stars because before he became a baker, he was going to be an astronomer. He knew all about the planets, moons, stars and galaxies. He would tell me about the namesakes of the planets and their stories. He would talk about all the different ways that each ancient civilisation would use the stars and planets. He would tell me about how the Greeks used the stars to pass down their stories and history and used it when navigating across the sea. How the Egyptians used the skies when prophesising and making important decisions. How the Mayans built a calendar based on the alignment and positions of the planets and stars. How gypsies and travellers used the stars as their only guide and light across the hot deserts and through the mountains. My dad would bring me out here on a clear night and teach me the constellations, telling me all about heroes like Hercules and Orion and how they earned their place among the stars. I would tell him that one day, I'll be a star.

I sit here for a while, listening to the crickets and remembering the stories that my dad would tell me about the Greek gods and the heroes with all the adventures. An owl starts hooting in the woods, stopping when its mate joins it with food. The sound reminds me of when my parents and I went to the zoo for my 9th birthday. I looked at every creature in the zoo but when my dad asked me what animal I wanted to go back to see before we left, I said I wanted to see the owls again. I particularly loved the snowy owls because they looked fiercely magnificent. The next day, my dad took me to his workshop and taught me how to make things out of marzipan. At the end of the day, I took home my final creation and marvelled that my clumsy hands had created such a delicate little thing. I'd get so frustrated when it wasn't perfect but he taught me to be patient. He also taught me a life lesson when doing that. He taught me that everything I do doesn't have to be perfect seeing as I myself am not perfect. Lessons like those are one of the things that I miss most about him. My final creation was an owl and was the 27th marzipan animal of its kind. Even though I made it 8 years ago, I still keep it in my treasure box. Because my father worked at the bakery, he was the one who taught to me how to cook. We mainly made biscuits, cakes and slices, moving onto more complex things like cakes, tarts and macaroons as I got older. I started cooking less and less as I got further into high school because I started spending more time out with my friends rather than at home with my parents.

A shining light from the pond near the hill catches my eye and I realise that it's only the moon on the surface of the water. It makes me wonder how long it has been since I last skimmed a rock. I think of heading down there but decide against it as it wouldn't be very safe and is better done in daylight hours. My dad used to warn me that I might awake the creatures of the deep if I go there at night. I remember the first time I ever skimmed a rock. I got so excited that I had finally done it after throwing what felt like millions. I was so ecstatic that I almost fell into the water, pulling my dad with me. I was then devastated because I realised I wouldn't get my rock back. As with just about everything else, my dad taught me how to skim a rock. He would assist me in choosing a rock, telling me I needed to a flat, smooth one and would help me with my arm movements. We did it all day until I accidentally let go of the rock too early and hit my dad with it.

I then see my home in the moonlight with the stars sparkling above it and I think of how magical it is. I always remember the moments like these because they're picture perfect, even though my life isn't. My life will never be the same again. A year ago, my mum was diagnosed with cancer. Last month she died, and nothing has been the same since. My father became distant and spent most of his time sitting in the workshop, staring out the window at her garden. My mum once told me something that reminds me of what my life is like now. She told me that 'monsters are real and ghosts are real too. They live inside of us, and sometimes, they win'. I think that's what happened to Dad and I'm scared that's happening to me but rather than my mum's ghost, it's my father's that's haunting me.


End file.
